


this ain't gonna work

by kate_button



Series: take a slice [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Billy Hargrove Being Gross, Come Eating, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Marijuana, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay, Shotgunning, Under-negotiated Kink, Unresolved Sexual Tension, light thigh spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-11-02 00:57:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20567441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kate_button/pseuds/kate_button
Summary: There’s clearly, clearly something going on between them, Steve gets all cute and annoyed before he does whatever Billy wants him to, before he lets Billy rope him into all sorts of shit, lets him push and play and fuck with him just for the fun of it. Steve likes it. Gets all stupid and happy and bitches about it because he can tell Billy likes it when he bitches about it but does it anyway, maybe. At least, Billy’s pretty sure that’s why.He wants to wreck him, honestly. Wants to have him. Wants to fuck him up and touch him for real and suck on his fucking earlobe in public. Wants to cover his pretty throat in bite marks.





	this ain't gonna work

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to gross college boys volume two: the dumbassening. 
> 
> Titles shamelessly pilfered from Glass Animals, the unofficially official gross college harringrove soundtrack. I also learned that 'Billy Hargrove Being Gross' is an officially recognized tag on ao3, and I think that's just great.

Steve Harrington is quite possibly the dumbest motherfucker Billy’s ever met. He knew that, of course, was pretty well aware even back in high school, but it’s another thing to witness it firsthand, up close and personal, right under his goddamn nose every day.

Because Billy knows the alphabet, he was not super surprised to end up with Harrington for a roomy. Steve was less prepared, dumb mouth dropping open when he’d shown up and found Billy in his underwear with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Billy wants to put his fingers in that dumb mouth. Put some other shit there too if Steve asks nicely.

It’s kind of, like, endearing, too, which is fucking irritating. There’s clearly, clearly something going on between them, Steve gets all cute and annoyed before he does whatever Billy wants him to, before he lets Billy rope him into all sorts of shit, lets him push and play and fuck with him just for the fun of it. Steve likes it. Gets all stupid and happy and bitches about it because he can tell Billy likes it when he bitches about it but does it anyway, maybe. At least, Billy’s pretty sure that’s why.

He wants to wreck him, honestly. Wants to have him. Wants to fuck him up and touch him for real and suck on his fucking earlobe in public. Wants to cover his pretty throat in bite marks.

Again, though. Kid’s dumb as bricks and Billy’s not quite sure how else to get his point across.

Thing is, he sees Steve looking. Sees him eyeing Billy’s wood while Billy scrolls through Steve’s Instagram on his phone, sees the way he goes all pink and flustered when he realizes the shirt he’s tugged on is one of the ones Billy shoved back in there on a no-laundry day and he’s gonna have to smell him all day, practically feels the eyes on him in the dark while he listens to the slick squelch of Steve’s hand on his dick.

He really thought the shotgunning thing was gonna do it. Really thought when Steve’s hands slipped back to his hips to toy with the waistband of his briefs that they were finally fucking getting somewhere.

But then, Steve. Steve fucking Harrington, dumbest motherfucker Billy’s ever met.

It’s not that he wasn’t being obvious before. He smokes Steve out daily and buys all his booze since his daddy cut him off, orders them pizza and burgers and thai food so Steve doesn’t have to eat cafeteria food, hauls him along to every single party he decides to go to and then gets drunk enough to feel him up in public.

He made him a playlist called _play this one while you jerk off and think about me_, for fucks sake.

And still, nothing. He’s not sure what the problem is. So, he escalates a little.

He starts by commenting incredibly suggestive strings of emojis on every new post on Steve’s Instagram. Usually as soon as he sees them because he’s impatient like that and also because he likes to imagine Steve checking his notifications in class and seeing it and maybe getting that little smack of pink on his cheeks, but then one night he decides to be bold and waits until he’s home and has been staring at Steve’s hot little ass while Steve lays on his belly and tries to read long enough to have a stiffy. Strings together some peaches and ok hands and eggplants and hits comment. Watches Steve glance at his phone, grab for it and unlock it and pull his notifications down. Watches his eyebrows furrow, watches him blush just a little, meets his eyes when Steve glances over at him.

Billy lets his eyes slide down the curve of his back, lets them linger on the swell of his ass for a moment, looks back up. Grins. Raises his eyebrows.

Steve throws a pen at him. Billy retaliates by beaming him directly in the side of the head with a crusty piece of day-old pizza.

‘Dick,’ Steve says, pink-cheeked and glaring.

Billy adjusts himself in his underwear, leers at him. ‘You like it.’

Steve chucks the piece of pizza back at him, looks back down at his book. ‘I’m trying to _study_, asshole.’

He doesn’t like being ignored, and Steve makes him petty, sometimes. He picks up his phone, replies to his own comment on Steve’s post with some more eggplants. Just in case he didn’t get it the first time. Hits send.

Steve looks at it, throws him a glare. Billy just grins.

It’s not like he has a plan. Shit just comes to him, and then he does it, the wilder the better. If there’s a line to cross, a line to coax Steve over, Billy’s gotta find it, gotta do it, gotta see the look on Steve’s face when he caves and crosses and realizes he fucking _loves_ it.

So the next time he smokes a joint, he doesn’t even offer it to Steve. In a stroke of genius, he just lays back and tucks his hand behind his head and smokes it and watches Steve watch him until finally Steve clears his throat, looking unsure of himself.

It’s fucking dizzying. He loves it.

‘Something you want, baby?’

He’d started the pet names with gusto the day after the shotgunning incident.

‘You gonna share?’ Steve asks, not used to Billy making him ask for it, maybe. Billy raises his eyebrows.

‘Come eat it outta my mouth you want it so bad.’

Steve’s dumb mouth opens a little, then he pushes himself off his bed and takes the not quite four steps to Billy’s and stands there, looking down at him. Billy doesn’t move. Hits the joint.

‘You gonna make room, dickhead?’ Steve says, and Billy grins. Shakes his head.

So Steve just. Uh. Climbs on top of him. Yep, throws a leg over him and sits on his thighs and knocks that lungful of smoke right outta Billy’s chest.

He was expecting to have to work a little more for it.

‘Well?’ Steve says, so Billy tucks the joint back between his lips and pulls a big hit into his mouth, doesn’t breathe it in, hooks a finger in the collar of Steve’s shirt and pulls until he plants his hands on the bed on either side of Billy’s head and leans down and slots their mouths together. Eats it outta his mouth.

Billy’s dick gets kinda hard about it, and about Steve’s dick being like right there next to it, and about how Steve will almost certainly notice because it’s, like, _right_ there. With nothing but his briefs between it and the world. Between it and Steve, mostly.

He runs his fingers up Steve’s thigh. Steve makes a little noise into his mouth, then pulls away and settles back on Billy’s legs.

He’s really not sure at all how they’re not fucking yet. It’s like, pretty fucking gay to straddle your roommate and suck pot smoke out of his mouth. It’s pretty fucking gay to look each other in the eye while you both jerk off. It’s pretty _fucking_ gay how much they flirt, how Steve lets Billy boss him around, how fucking naked they are together all the time and how much they both shamelessly watch each other when they are.

He doesn’t get why Steve’s not on his dick right this exact second, honestly.

Steve blows the smoke out, eyes sliding down to Billy’s lips and then back up to his eyes. Billy can feel Steve on his mouth, still, hot tingle of him. He licks his lips, tries to pull that feeling in with his tongue.

‘You want more?’ Billy asks. Steve nods. Billy takes another hit, fingers skating up over Steve’s hip, up under his shirt. He spreads his hand out on Steve’s waist. Steve’s eyes slip shut, and Billy gets his hand on his neck to tug him down, careful of the joint and Steve’s stupid fucking hair.

His dick blurts out a little drop of precome when the tip of Steve’s tongue hits his bottom lip as he breathes in what Billy gives him. He’s spinning. Holds Steve there a second too long, slides his hand down, down, low on Steve’s belly, tips of his fingers chasing the hair there just under his waistband.

Steve breaks away with a gasp, drops his forehead to Billy’s shoulder, breathes heavy and quick, breath on his chest making Billy’s nipples perk up and take notice.

It’s not like it’s a secret. He could not be more fucking obvious if he tried. He has _tried_.

Steve’s index finger traces the shell of his ear. Billy shivers. Like, fully shakes with it.

‘Don’t think I need any more weed,’ Steve says, voice all shot to hell. It’s all Billy can do to keep his hips from jerking. He tightens the fingers that aren’t holding the joint in Steve’s hair, drags his head back until Steve looks at him.

Billy wants to eat him alive. Steve looks down between them, _sees_, looks back up at Billy with wide eyes and swallows.

‘I should, uh. I.’ Steve looks away, looks anywhere but at Billy, blotchy red in the cheeks. He seems to register where he is, what he’s doing kind of all at once. He sits up, puts space between them where there wasn’t any a second ago.

Billy takes his hand off Steve’s belly, blows out a breath. Steve fucking Harrington. He closes his eyes, brings the joint up to his lips, reaches down to adjust his dick after Steve climbs off him.

Dumbest motherfucker he’s ever met. Normally he doesn’t go around tossing boys into walls and making out with them whether they’re asking for it or not, but holy shit. If Steve doesn’t figure his shit out soon, Billy might fucking snap.

Two days later he walks in on Steve jerking off, and all the blood rushing from his brain to his dick leaves him spinning, leaves him bracing his hand on the doorframe and breathing deep through his nose.

Steve stops and looks up at him, long fingers wrapped around his pink dick.

He’s on Billy’s bed.

Billy toes his shoes off, drops his backpack. Shakes with how badly he wants to go over there and lay Steve out and make him fucking scream. ‘Well? Don’t stop on my account. Keep going.’

He does not. He looks up at Billy and bites at his lip with a hot red blush on his fucking cheeks and Billy wants to eat him alive, frankly, thinks this fucking idiot is gonna kill him, probably. ‘Billy, I-’

‘I said keep going, Harrington,’ he snaps. Bossy. Watches a big drop of milky slick bubble up outta the head of Steve’s dick.

Then Steve’s hand is moving again. Too fast, too tight.

‘Slow down, asshole, it’s not a race. Be nice to it.’

A really pretty wash of red spreads down Steve’s chest and he takes these quick, desperate little breaths, but he slows down.

Billy doesn’t bother to pretend he’s not looking as he strips his shirt off, shoves his jeans down and kicks those off too. The hardly ever wearing pants in the room thing started even before the pet names. Steve watches him do it, follows Billy’s hands as he peels off his clothes and debates whether he should sprawl out on Steve’s bed or make him scoot over and join Steve on his own.

Steve’s hand moves slow and loose around himself as he looks Billy up and down, fucking shameless about it.

He’s not sure what they’re doing here, but his dick is very into it. His head is very into it. His hands are sweaty and shaking and his knees feel a little weak and Steve’s hips are kinda twitching up every time the pads of his fingers hit him right there under the head and like, Billy’s mouth is watering.

He thinks briefly about pulling Steve’s hand off his dick and spitting this fucking mouthful into the palm of it, making him jerk off with it, lights up a firestorm that burns up his insides with the thought and then swallows it down.

Steve’s jerking off on his bed. Billy sits down next to him, drowns in the way Steve’s breath catches, the way his hand kinda skips a little, the way his fingers tighten around it, like a twitch, like he can’t help it.

Fuck it. In for a penny.

Steve looks at him, eyes all wide, lips parted, tongue darting out to wet them, and Billy touches the inside of his knee, runs the tips of his fingers up the inside of his thigh and aches at the way Steve’s eyes snap shut and his back arches and his head tips back, the way he can almost see Steve’s rumbly moan under the mole-dotted skin of his fucking throat.

It’s all Billy can do not to put his teeth in it. His dick twitches in sympathy, but he ignores it for the moment. Steve’s moving too fast again, shaky quick little strokes. Billy taps his wrist, and his eyes fly open, wide and wild.

He’s into it. Of fucking course he is. ‘What’d I say?’ Billy asks, soft.

‘Fuck,’ Steve says, but he slows down again, takes a deep, ragged breath and loosens his grip. It makes Billy’s head spin. Steve’s so much fun. Billy can’t wait to ruin him.

Steve’s slumped with his back against the wall and Billy scoots right up next to him, cross-legged and facing him, one knee touching Steve’s hip. He gets his hand on the inside of Steve’s thigh, tugs until Steve hooks his knee over Billy’s. He looks over at Billy all stupid and turned on, and Billy runs his fingertips up the inside of his thigh again, then drags his nails back down toward Steve’s knee.

Steve makes a broken little noise in his throat, gets a little redder, and his free hand comes up to clutch at Billy’s forearm.

The fact that it, like, kinda incapacitates him for a second, makes his brain short out and goddamn fireworks dance down his spine is honestly wild and Billy doesn’t really know what to do with it, except Steve’s stopped moving again and they really need to deal with that. ‘Did I tell you to stop?’

The noise Steve makes sounds a lot like a sob, but his hand starts moving again, eyes never leaving Billy’s. Billy lets his hand drift back up Steve’s thigh again, lets his fingertips dip low, not _between_ Steve’s cheeks, but close enough to make Steve’s knees shift a little wider, which is. Something. He lets himself get caught up, puts his other hand on Steve’s belly, rubs his thumb through the damp hair above his dick. Steve’s hand bumps it on the down strokes. Billy has a sudden and overwhelming urge to get his face down there, lick the salt off him, tug on his pubes with his teeth.

Steve makes him crazy. Drives him absolutely fucking crazy.

Steve’s moving faster again, stomach kinda jumping under his hand, thighs real tense. Billy knows what that means, and he’s not ready for it.

‘Do not fucking come,’ he says, out of his mouth before he really has a chance to think about it.

‘Oh my _god_,’ Steve moans, fingers digging into Billy’s arm. ‘I. I don’t know-’

‘Stop,’ he says, abrupt, ‘hands off.’

Steve doesn’t even hesitate. Stops mid-stroke, lets his dick slap back down onto his belly. Onto the back of Billy’s hand, fuck. Billy doesn’t move, stays very fucking still while Steve’s dick twitches, leaks some slick onto his knuckles.

Fuck. _Fuck_.

He wasn’t sure Steve would do it. Like, there were hints. He suspected Steve would be like this, sometimes, that he’d let Billy do this kinda shit if they ever got around to it, but the reality is like, staggering. He can’t think, can’t fucking breathe. Steve’s eyes are black and hooded and his hair is sticking to his temples, body slick with sweat and all fucking _pink_ and he’s not sure how he’s gonna get through this without shoving Steve’s face down on his aching dick but this is also the closest they’ve ever gotten and Steve’s not running, not shutting it down for no good fucking reason. He feels like he’s on a tightrope, doesn’t wanna fuck this up. Doesn’t wanna ever give Steve any reason to fight that checked out trusting look he’s wearing.

He takes a risk. Picks his hand up off Steve’s thigh and brings it back down, smacks him. It’s louder than Billy was expecting. Steve whimpers, and his dick blurts out more slick onto the back of Billy’s hand. Billy’s stomach flips and his hands shake. Voice shakes a little too. ‘You can keep going.’

Steve’s fingers bump Billy’s as he gets them back around his dick, gives it a couple slow, loose strokes and looks to Billy like he’s looking for approval, like he wants to know if he’s doing it right. Billy runs a soothing hand over the little pink spot on the inside of Steve’s leg that he left there, and Steve bites his lip, closes his eyes. Shifts his leg a little further over on Billy’s lap. Billy slides his hand up, lets it sit right there at the top of his thigh, rubs his thumb up and down the crease, through the hair there. Steve’s strokes get a little inconsistent, a little shaky, maybe. Billy gets a patch of Steve’s pubes between his thumb and finger and tugs, hard. Steve makes this punched out little noise, hand jerking on his dick.

‘Billy,’ he says, in this thick, shaky way that makes Billy wanna like hold him down and fuck the last few brain cells out of his head. His dick throbs, but he can’t touch Steve with both hands and also touch himself, so. He’ll wait. He can wait.

‘Yeah, baby?’

Steve opens his eyes, looks at him and licks his lips and swallows. ‘Can- I need to come.’

‘No, you don’t,’ Billy says, drags his nails down Steve’s thigh again, harder this time, leaves little red trails in his wake. ‘Not yet.’

Steve’s whole body kinda twitches, hand spasming around his dick. ‘O-okay. Uh, when-’ He lets go of Billy’s arm and touches Billy’s ribs with the tips of his fingers, slides them back until his hand is flat against his side, down until it settles on his hip. Billy takes a shaky breath.

‘When I say.’

Steve nods, hand stilling briefly as he takes a few deep breaths, then starting back up again, slow as before.

It kinda blows Billy’s mind. Like, it _really_ blows Billy’s mind, in fact. This is maybe the most intimate sex he’s ever had with another person, and it’s. They’re not even _fucking_.

Steve’s thumb rubs little circles on his hip in time with slick slide of his hand on his cock. Billy draws little swirly patterns on the inside of Steve’s thigh with his fingernails. Steve takes shaky, irregular breaths, leg muscles twitching under his fingers, stomach jumping under his palm. His nipples are hard as hell.

Steve’s eyes rake down his body, linger on the wet spot at the front of his underwear, at the incredibly obvious hard-on under them. His tongue darts out to wet his lips again, and he blushes red, eyes snapping back up to Billy’s. It’s not a secret. Has never been a secret. He doesn’t pull away this time, though. Doesn’t look away. Doesn’t hide from it.

Billy feels drunk. Steve lets go of his dick again, and Billy stares at it as it twitches over and over and over, leaves slick little trails on the back of his hand. It looks like it aches. Looks hard enough to hurt. He hopes it does.

Steve’s watching him when he looks up again. Just watching him, no brown left in his eyes at all. Billy licks his lips, and Steve’s eyes drop, follow the movement. Linger there. Billy’s skin tingles. Steve looks back up at him again, slowly wraps his fingers back around his dick.

‘Fuck,’ Billy breathes, tension too much, fucking his head all up. Steve speeds up a little. Looks at his mouth again.

‘Billy,’ Steve says, licks his lips, pants a little. Billy sways, tips forward, hand pressing into Steve’s belly, drawn in like gravity, way beyond his control. He pauses when his face is inches from Steve’s, right there close enough to feel Steve’s breath, looks at his mouth, this wet pink lips.

He’s gonna kiss him. He’s just going to. No turning back, not now.

He closes the distance, bumps Steve’s nose with his own and licks his top lip. ‘Finish,’ he says, then skips right to slotting their lips together, kissing Steve’s bottom lip, running his tongue along it, eating the moans right out of his mouth as he chases his orgasm, finds it, lets it wreck him.

He’s got Steve’s come on his arm. On the back of his hand. Steve’s got it all over his chest.

He breaks away, bites his lip as Steve slumps, spent, eyes closed, breathing hard. He’s the most beautiful boy Billy’s ever seen. His dick _aches_.

He gives Steve’s thigh one more little smack and Steve’s breath catches, eyes snapping open, meeting Billy’s. Billy takes his hand off Steve’s belly, drags his fingernails through the hair there as he does it just to watch Steve’s stomach jump, then like. Makes a decision.

He licks the come off the back of his hand. Steve’s eyes go a little wide and his fingers kinda spasm on Billy’s thigh, which is where his hand is now, somehow. ‘Oh, what the fuck Billy,’ he breathes in this awed kinda way that suggests to Billy that he’s pretty fucking into it and has no idea why. Billy can work with that. Can work with all this.

Billy finishes cleaning his hand off, then pats Steve on the chest. ‘Gonna need my bed back.’

Steve goes very pink, like maybe he had forgotten until this exact moment that this thing started when Billy walked in on him jerking off in the wrong bed. He’s not complaining, but.

He ducks down, presses the sweetest kiss he can muster to Steve’s cheek, and pushes himself up off the bed. ‘I’m gonna go shower,’ he says, sounding a hell of a lot steadier than he feels, ‘don’t worry about the mess.’

There’s some come on his comforter. He kinda wants Steve to have to see it every time he looks at Billy’s bed. He doesn’t give a shit, personally, will happily jerk off under it thinking about Steve’s stains on it.

He grabs his towel and his toiletries, and his hand is on the doorknob before Steve figures out how to speak again.

‘Hey,’ he says, and Billy pauses, looks back at him. ‘I uh. Thanks.’ He blushes. Billy’s fucking heart swells.

He smiles. Like, a real one. Gives Steve that.

‘Any time, Harrington.’

**Author's Note:**

> Will they ever touch dicks? Will Billy ever get a taste of that sweet, sweet ass? Stay tuned for the thrilling conclusion to our saga.
> 
> In the meantime, feel free to @ me.
> 
> [Tumblr.](https://un-buttoned.tumblr.com/)


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